


Your chance to make the sun rise thrice

by lizzieraindrops



Series: Herbs on the windowsill [3]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/F, Gen, Multi, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Orphan Black Series 02: Helsinki, Other, Platonic Relationships, Queerplatonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 06:49:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11270211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizzieraindrops/pseuds/lizzieraindrops
Summary: The concluding work in theHerbs on the windowsilluniverse. An alternate timeline where the original Helsinki massacre was prevented and DYAD routed by Clone Club Alpha's successful publicity stunt back in 2001. Veera Suominen and Niki Lintula survived and decided to live in a little apartment together as qpp's.A few years later, Veera and Niki have only grown closer, and they're slowly healing and growing into a more fulfilling existence. Numerous Leda clones worldwide are now in contact via a secure online network that Veera maintains. And now, one of them is coming from continent away to meet Veera face to face for the first time.Also posted ontumblr.





	Your chance to make the sun rise thrice

**Author's Note:**

> The conclusion to this project has been simmering on the back burner for quite some time, but what with the events of season 5, now seemed the best time for it get out in the world. Because I'm tired of the violence, and this is my answer to it. This piece is dedicated to everyone in need of something kinder.

From the other room, some repetitive sound pats out a muffled rhythm, so softly that Niki only realizes after a moment that it's what woke her up. Yawning, she rolls out of bed in her long t-shirt and stands. She thinks she knows what it is. She pulls the door open.

 _Yep_. Veera is restlessness in dusky purple and she's pacing the length of their living room ceaselessly, a half-saturated silhouette of color in the dawn shadows. Her hands are twitching.

"This was a terrible idea," she says in a low voice without looking at Niki or breaking the perfect meter of her stride.

"No, it _wasn't_ ," Niki says from the doorway. She rubs her eyes. The sun is just now barely rising, and it's the longest day of the summer. This far north, that means it's something like three in the morning. In Niki's opinion, that's way too early for _anything_ , but Veera never can sleep well the night before something big is happening.

"Yes it _is_ ," Veera insists. "Why did I want to _meet_ her? She's going to look at me and see my - see _me_ , and I'm going to be - it's going to be awful. Why did I do this?!"

"Veera," Niki says, somewhat exasperated, "She already knows what you look like, she's literally your clone. And you have _literally_ sent her photos of us, so she knows what _you_ look like, too." She waits until Veera reaches the endpoint of the line her feet keep retracing to cross it without interrupting her rhythm, and plops herself onto the couch to at least have this conversation sitting comfortably. _Balls_ , she thinks. _Here we go again_.

"No, no, no," Veera says, staring down the carpet and shaking her head as she walks. "I'm going to have to _talk_ to her, and you know how the words get tangled up inside when I get stressed, and I'm already - already - argh." She suddenly stops in the middle of her circuit and presses her face down into her hands. Then, just as abruptly, she looks back up, flings her arms back down, and resumes her pacing, now in a more circular track. Past the doors to the bedrooms and bathroom, down toward the kitchen, past the big philodendron in the corner and Niki on the couch in front of the faintly lit window, and then around again. Her hands twist back and forth at the ends of her arms with more vigor now, like an inverted gesture of silent applause, but one that she doesn't want anyone to see. There was a time she would not have let Niki see how distressed she was, and the way that distress expends itself through the the twitch of her hands, of her feet, of her head.

"Veera, it's okay," Niki says, softer now. "You've talked to her practically every day for, what, two years now? And she already knows that this is something that happens sometimes, because you already told her, because you already thought of this ahead of time, because you always think of everything. She knows you and she's here to visit _you_ , she's not gonna run for the hills."

"But what if _I_ do," Veera says dejectedly. "I don't know if I can do this." She flops onto the couch next to Niki and closes her eyes, her limbs suddenly gone limp with the admission. "And we haven't _talked_. They're instant messages."

"I know." Niki reaches out to take Veera's hand in hers. Veera automatically tangles their fingers together without opening her eyes. For someone usually so guarded and sparing with touch, the utterly casual intimacy of the gesture is a condensed, powerful shorthand for a long history of familiarity. It makes Niki's heart melt a little bit every time.

"It'll be fine. Trust me," Niki says. "Beth's like, your best friend."

Veera's eyes snap open. "But _you're_ my best friend," she says, giving Niki an almost wounded look.

Niki rolls her eyes. "You can have more than one of those, you dork," she says with a smile. "Like, just because you're my everything - and you know that you are - that doesn't mean you have to be the only thing. Like, we talked about this when I started seriously seeing Suvi again, remember? And we made sure that _we_ were still okay and on the same page with everything, and you were fine with that when it was me. Why not you? Nothing has to change how _we_ are. Or, well, it _can_ , if we want. But not what we are to each other." Niki squeezes her hand just a little.

"There are a lot of great people in our lives now because of what we did four years ago, and because of the online network you set up for Project Leda,” Niki continues, “and I think it's worth getting to know some of them. And it sounds like you've found one of the best of them, one who thinks so too, so much that she decided to jump an ocean to come see you."

"She's coming to look at the university, too, she's not here _just_ to see me," Veera protests.

"Yeah, she pretty much is."

"Rrrngh," Veera says, flopping her head against the back of the couch again. Then she changes direction yet again like a wayward wind, sitting up and curling her legs under her in a single, carefully coordinated motion.

Veera stares into space for a moment, then turns her gaze to meet Niki's and holds it as steadily as her hand. That fear that perpetually clings to her looms large now in those eyes, dark in the dimly lit room and framed by the dark hair that she's cut pixie-short once again. But the fear is also being tempered by a powerful hope for the good things that could happen, hope that Veera hasn't allowed herself to show until now. Niki runs a thumb over the back of Veera's hand and blinks gently into that intense gaze, like a cat. Apparently that means _I love you_ in cat language. Veera told her that once.

Then, Veera does something that makes Niki's breath stop for several heartbeats in the morning stillness. She takes the hand she's holding with both of her own, and presses it against her cheek - her scarred cheek.

Although their daily coexistence is a never-ending study in just how much meaning can be packed into these small intimacies, Niki has never once touched those scars in all the three years they've been living together. She never would have presumed to try, knowing how self-conscious Veera is about them. But now she can feel them against her knuckles. Although Veera usually acts like they're a gruesome open wound, they simply feel like an irregular pattern of calluses. Nothing scary or repulsive. Just skin.

Gently, gently, Niki unfolds her hand to hold her face, fingers flush against the living filigree left by a long-ago fire. Veera sighs and tilts her head into the touch, as if seeking solace in the lines of her palm. A silent tear or two seeps into the space between Niki's hand and her cheek. Niki's heartbeat stumbles, and she brushes them away with her thumb and a sniffle of her own.

"I love you," Veera says quietly.

 _Okay. Now I'm really gonna bawl and it's not even four o'clock yet_ , Niki thinks. _This really_ is _gonna be the longest day._

Veera rarely says the words out loud, preferring as usual to let her actions and affections speak for her, and they never fail to do so eloquently. Niki's the talkative one. But the words are there, hanging in the air with the first light of day. _Maybe for today, we can swap for once._

Niki wipes her eyes on the back of her free hand. Then, she uses it to delicately turn Veera's head to the side, so that she can lean forward and brush the lightest of kisses onto those marks that mean Niki will never, ever lose her among the hundreds of faces out there that look just the same and nothing alike. Then, she lets go to mop at her streaming eyes with both hands.

Niki feels hands on her shoulders, then arms arcing around to pull her into an embrace, and the weight of a head leaning against the side of hers. She lets herself be held. _It's okay to cry here_ , she reminds herself. That was one of their earliest rules in this tiny haven they carved out of the world together.

They stay like that for a time, Niki doesn't know how long. Only that her eyes are half-closed and her soul is open, and that the whole place is turning more and more golden as it fills with light from the east.

 

***

 

Several hours, assurances, and cups of tea later, the resonant chime of the clock sounds a quarter til noon over the busy murmur echoing in the main terminal, and a train pulls into the Helsinki station. Its streamlined sides gleam in the rich late morning light.

On the platform, Niki has an arm around Veera, and she can feel her shoulders flinch slightly as the squeal of brakes echoes off all the hard concrete and metal in the awning-enclosed platform. But the motion passes through her and vanishes as if hardly noticed. Veera is leaning a little forward, her gaze locked on the train.

The doors clatter open. A small crowd of passengers emerges onto the platform, and most of them start immediately making their way toward their next destinations. Soon, the flow thins and there are only a few people left, including a girl in a long navy wool coat and a messy bun, who is stepping carefully in her heels off the train and into the sunlight. She’s staring away from them down the other side of the platform, searching.

The girl leans forward to better see down to the far end, but doesn't find what she's looking for, and straightens back up. Her posture is impeccable. She turns toward them slowly, leading with her head, revealing a very familiar face framed by little flyaway hairs, lit up by the sun in sharp golden contrast to the subtler blues and blacks of her ensemble. When her eyes find them, that face cracks into the kind of huge, toothy grin that will give her laugh lines early in life if it's kind to her.

Niki waves and smiles at her, then looks at Veera, who is still standing motionless at her side.

"You gonna go on?" Niki says to her quietly.

Veera looks back at her with eyes wider than she's ever seen. Their hazel is now brilliant, aflame with emotion and the bright light of the station. Then she takes one step, and she's running right at Beth, who has dropped her single piece of luggage and is trotting to meet her as fast as she can.

They halt sharply half a meter apart and spend a frozen moment in some kind of preliminary assessment or wordless communication. Veera's arms are flung slightly backward and out, like wings about to launch her skyward at any moment. Beth manages to give the impression that she’s hovering on tiptoe even in her heels, like she’s perched on a precipice and waiting to make a leap of faith.

Then Veera has collapsed that last distance between them by diving forward and seizing Beth around the middle and, apparently, squeezing her with all her strength, because Beth stumbles and wheezes with the force of it. Then Beth is hugging her back fiercely and making small incoherent yelps of delight, and she's picked Veera up bodily to spin her around in sheer uncontainable exuberance.

Niki’s face is hurting from the breadth of the grin there that won’t go away. Veera starts laughing, filling the entire station with the sound of pure joy. It echoes as loudly as the chiming of the hour, and it's as warm and brilliant as the midsummer midday sun streaming in through the gaps in the awnings far above.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written almost entirely on the day of the summer solstice. I thought we could all do with a little extra healing sunlight.

**Author's Note:**

> Title deliberately misquoted from the poem in the [epigraph](https://books.google.com/books?id=0P91BgAAQBAJ&pg=PP13&lpg=PP13&dq=your+chance+to+make+the+sun+rise+twice&source=bl&ots=a3n7gg3dnB&sig=BDrZcpcv13-sHcXI3p72_CzJUo0&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwi9hYrLuc3UAhVM_WMKHS7XA7QQ6AEIJjAA#v=onepage&q=your%20chance%20to%20make%20the%20sun%20rise%20twice&f=false) of _Games Wizards Play_ , by Diane Duane. Some of you nerds are probably aware of the reasons for this. The original ends with: _and do not miss, 'twixt fire and ice / your chance to make the sun rise twice_. It's about suns and stars and second chances and finding lost things and bringing them home.


End file.
